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Take thy banner !-and beneath
Take thy banner! But when night
Take thy banner -and if e'er
Martial cloak and shroud for thee!
THE INDIAN HUNTER.
When the summer harvest was gather'd in,
The winds of autumn came over the woods
The foot of the reaper moved slow on the lawn,
Then the hunter turned away from that scene,
The moon of the harvest grew high and bright, As her golden horn pierced the cloud of white, A footstep was heard in the rustling brake, Where the beech overshadowed the misty lake, And a mourning voice and a plunge from shore ;And the hunter was seen on the hills no more.
When years had pass'd on, by that still lake-side
THE SEA DIVER.
My way is on the bright blue sea,
My sleep upon its rocking tide;
Where billows clasp the worn sea-side.
When ocean by the sun is kiss'd!
When fades the evening's purple flush,
My dark wing cleaves the silver mist.
Full many a fathom down beneath
The bright arch of the splendid deep,
O'er living myriads in their sleep.
They rested by the coral throne,
And by the pearly diadem,
The glorious dwellings made for them.
At night upon my storm-drench'd wing,
I poised above a helmless bark,
Had pass'd away and left no mark.
And when the wind and storm had done,
A ship, that had rode out the gale,
And none was left to tell the tale.
I saw the pomp of day depart,
The cloud resign its golden crown,
The sailor's wasted corse went down.
Peace be to those whose graves are made
Beneath the bright and silver sea!
With no vain pride and pageantry.
GEORGE D, PRENTICE,
Was born in Preston, in Connecticut, in 1804, and graduated at Brown University in 1823. He is now the editor of the New England Weekly Review in Hartford. His poems have been published in the magazines and papers.
How beautiful !—from his blue throne on high,
The sun looks downward with a tace of love Upon the silent waters—and a sky,
Lovelier than that which lifts its arch above,
Of flame, is trembling the wild tempests cease
Years have gone by, since first my infant eyes
Rested upon those waters. Once again, As here I muse,
the hours of childhood rise Faint o'er my memory, like some witching strain Of half-forgotten music. Yon blue wave
Still, still rolls on in beauty-but the tide Of years rolls darkling o'er the lonely grave
Of Hopes, that with my life's bright morning died ! Look! look !—the clouds' light shadows from above,
Like fairy Islands, o`er the waters sweep! Oh I have dreann'd niy spirit thus could love
To float for ever on the boundless deep, Communing with the elements ;-to hear,
At midnight hour, the death-wing'd tempest rave,
Glassing its glories in the mirror wave ;-
On Ocean's spirits, caves, and coral halls,
No zephyr breathes, nur struggling sunbeam falls ;-As round some far Isle of the burning zone,
Where tropic groves perfume the breath of morn,
List to the Ocean's melancholy tone,
Like a lone mourner's on the night-winds borne ;To see the infant wave on yon blue verge,
Like a young eagle, breast the sinking sun,
Till, down the deep dark zenith, one by one,
The lost, the beautiful, that calmly rest
Hush'd by the bearing of the Ocean's breast. Oh it were joy to wander wild and free
Where southern billows in the sunlight flash, Or Night sits brooding o’er the northern sea,
And all is still, save the o’erwhelming dash Of that dark world of waters ;-there to view
The meteor hanging from its cloud on high, Or see the northern fires, with blood-red hue,
Shake their wild tresses o'er the startled sky! "T is sweet, 't is sweet to gaze upon the deep,
And muse upon its mysteries. There it rolld, Ere yet that glorious sun had learn'd to sweep
The blue profound, and bathe the heavens in gold ;The morning stars, as up the skies they came,
Heard their first music o'er the ocean rung, And saw the first flash of their new-born flame
Back from its depths in softer brightness flung! And there it rolls !-Age after age has swept
Down, down the eternal cataract of Time,
Still there it rolls, unfading and sublime !
As sweetly now the bending heaven they kiss,
Moved o’er the waters of the vast abyss !
There, there it rolls.-I've seen the clouds unfurl
Their raven banner froin the stormy west-
His blue fork'd lightnings at the Ocean's breast;
Those budding isles were glittering fresh and fairSerenely bright the peaceful waters blush'd,
And heaven seem'd painting its own beauties there!